Neverland
by TheHomemadeDarkmark
Summary: A written version of the SyFy Miniseries.
1. Chapter 1

_A planet, second to the right and straight on till morning._

__Bright lights zoomed through the forest, racing past the trees. Looking closer, one would see that they are not merely lights, but tiny figures. They were humanoid, but they glowed with a gray-blue light, and wings fluttered behind them. Not to mention they were only a few inches tall.

One, a female, stopped, staring at a strange sight. A hooded man stood on a hilltop, holding a strange glowing sphere.

_What's he doing?_ she thought, watching the man hold the sphere to the sky.

She noticed, in the distance, two other lights, falling from the sky, speeding straight towards the man.

She gasped. _No! _She began to fly towards the man, hoping to save him from whatever danger he was in. _Stop!_

"No!" he shouted, as she flew in, stopping him.

In another world completely, two ships were caught in a battle. On one, a pirate ship, a woman stood, commanding her crew. "Fire!" she shouted, ordering the group.

The crew responded immediately to thier captain's command, firing their cannons.

The cannons blasted, slamming into the opposing ship. The final battle of the Jolly Roger on the Spanish Main, 1726.

"Fire!" the captian shouted again, setting off another round.

"She's a-sinking already!" said a man on the pirate ship, watching the other crew scramble in an attempt to save their ship.

"Board!" the captain ordered. "Before she takes her booty with her!" Her crew began taking what they could from the ship. In the end, they had their treasures, leaving what was left of the opposing crew to float off in a rowboat.

Two crew members carried a large, heavy chest across the deck, presenting it to the captain, who was now lounging in a throne-like chair, smoking her pipe.

"It's a heavy one, captain," another man informed her as they set the chest down.

"A war chest, I imagine," said the man from before, the one who had noticed their opposition sinking. He spoke with a Spanish accent, his dark hair pulled back, and his facial hair well-trimmed. "Filled with Spanish Doubloons." He began to wrench it open. When the lock finally snapped, he lifted the lid to reveal an orb.

The crew looked at it, confused. Was this it?

"What the hell is it?" demanded the captain.

"It's the holy grail!" said another man, this one quite short and round, a thick, white beard on his chin.

"Don't be ridiculous, Smee," said the other man while the captain rose. "Idiota. There's no such thing!"

The man named Smee was persistent, though. "It's Aladdin's lamp, then."

The captain kneeld on the deck, looking at the orb closely. Her long, dark hair fell down her shoulders, keeping out of her wonder-struck face. The orb glowed with a golden light. "There's something inside it," she said.

Suddenly, a shape could be made out in the depths of the orb. A small figure in the light. The captain leaned closer.

A face could suddenly be made out, magnified in the glass of the orb. The captain leapt back in terror with a yell.

"What's the matter?" said the man with the accent.

The captain pulled out her gun and aimed at the glowing sphere. "It's possessed!" she said. "The damn thing's got a ghost inside it!"

"Or a genie!" suggested Smee. The others ignored him, some drawing swords. "Maybe it'll grant us a wish or two!"

"It's not of this world," decided the captain, her gun still trained on the orb. She pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

In the far future, in London, England, another battle went on. A much smaller and less violent battle. A battle to survive. A group of boys, not a single one older than fifteen, worked everyday to pick-pocket money to keep themselves going. Our story starts during such a day when they made one of many attempts at pick-pocketing the rich.

A group of man, all dressed smartly in their suits and bowler hats, stepped out onto the streets, chattering aimlessly, preparing for their picture to be taken. They did not notice, at first, the pleas for help coming from down the road. A boy was being chased by two others, both of whom looked ready to rip him apart. "Help!" the boy cried.

His pursuers kept on after him. "Let me at him!" one yelled.

"I'm gonna kill him!" shouted the other.

"Come on you little runt!" yelled the first.

The business men were still quite oblivious to the pandemonium. Nor did they notice a peculiar sight on the roof of a nearby building. A boy standing there, observing the events below.

"Help!" the boy being chased yelled.

"Come on, you mutt!" screamed the first boy chasing him. All three ran, shouting, into the midst of the businessmen. Of course, being so busy trying to shove the boys off, none of them noticed the way that each time a boy bumped into them, something was picked from their pockets.

Up on the roof, the other boy put a small flute to his lips and played a tune. With this as their cue, two other boys, one tall and round, the other short and small, joined the fray. The businessmen were quite flustered now, surrounded by young boys. x

One by one, the boys slipped away with their findings, all except the round one, who was grabbed by the arm.

"Boy! He's got me watch!" one of the men cried out. "They're thieves!"

The boy on the roof stopped playing his flute, seeing the trouble below. He ran up the roof and down the other side where the rest of the group was walked, examining their treasures. He let loose another melody on his flute, catching their attention.

"What now?" one complained as they returned to the other street. They stopped at the corner, where the small boy was already waiting.

"What's up, Twins?" one of the boys asked. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes.

Twins, the small boy, replied, "Slightly's gone and got himself nicked."

"Any instructions from Peter?" asked one of the boys, one with curly blond hair.

"No," said Twins. "He's gone quiet."

Suddenly, the boy on the roof started another tune. The boys turned confused. "That's _Beer Barrel Bertie_," said the curly-haired one.

The third, a tall boy with dark skin and deep-set eyes, turned to him. "We don't have no plans for _Beer Barrel Bertie_. Do we?"

"Look over there!" the dark-haired one exclaimed, pointing out a horse-drawn cart carrying barrels.

The boy who had been nicked was being escorted away by policemen, when another boy cut them off.

"Excuse me," he said. "Officer, you dropped this." He held out his hand to the officer, holding out a stick.

"What? Impossible," said the officer, checking his belt. "Must have a buckle loose."

The boy gave him the stick then turned to the other. "And, uh, you dropped this." He pulled a silver whistle out of his pocket.

"That's my whistle! But how-"

"It was down there, with your keys," said the boy, cutting him off and pointing to the ground.

"My keys!" the policeman exclaimed, bending down, but while he did so, the boy leaned over and un-cuffed his companion with a key he had stolen. The two raced off, chased by the shouting officers.

Just as they were passing the cart of barrels, they boy on the roof blew a high, piercing note. The horse, startled by the high-pitched noise, reared, knocking the barrels back, tripping the officers.

The boys all slipped away, including the one from the roof. They headed for home, which was in the Whitechapel Fencing Academy. They slipped by the class, heading straight for the stairs to go below.

Before we continue, it would be smart to introduce you to the boys.

First there was Toodles. He was a kind boy, for the most part. He wore a beige hat over his floppy, dark brown hair. He was twelve, yet he was quite talented when it came to pick-pocketing.

Twins was the youngest, at nine. He was obviously smaller than the rest, with a mischievous face. Despite his young age, he was able to do the work of two of the other boys regularly, thus earning him his name.

Nibs, thirteen, was the quietest of the lot. He did not speak often, but he was quite smart. He had black hair under his gray hat, and dark, deep-set eyes that were very clever, for his age.

Slightly was twelve, and larger than the rest. Despite his roundness, he usually was quite stealthy most times.

Fox was the oldest at fifteen. His light brown hair was covered with a gray cap, and his blue eyes were quick and clever.

Curly, who was thirteen, was extremely head-strong. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind, especially when the others were too scared to say anything. His messy blond curls rested over proud blue eyes.

Finally, there was Peter. Peter had been living this life longer than any of the rest, which had them place him as their unofficial leader. Of course, his wits and talent didn't hurt. His brown eyes always seemed to take in everything, making them all turn to him to lead them.

This brings us back to their home in the Fencing Academy basement. As they arrived, they began setting out their loot. Curly was dropping his on a small table, muttering, "Jimmy's gonna love this."

Twins began dropping sausages into a pan over their stove. Peter came over and relieved him, taking over the cooking.

Jimmy walked in. Jimmy was their guardian. He had saved each and every one of them from living in the streets, or from a bad situation, and had taken them in.

Now, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "I've got a nice job for you boys."

They all looked up. "How nice?" Curly asked.

"Harbottle's Antiques," Jimmy said, matter-of-factly.

"Are you mad!" Curly exclaimed, standing up. Of course, they all knew why. Harbottle's was no easy feat.

"You're ready!" Jimmy said, trying to convince them.

Nibs spoke up. "That place is tighter than the tower."

"We'll get nicked for sure!" Curly said.

"Sorry, Jimmy," said Nibs. "Too dangerous."

"I think it's a brilliant idea," piped up Peter from the stove. He stood up and began formulating a plan. "Harbottle's has two doors, as I remember, one at the front and one at the back. Leading to the alley. There is a night guard, of course, and the windows are sealed shut, _but _there are other ways in if you're small and cunning."

"If we get nicked, it won't be the orphanage they throw us in!" Curly said heatedly. "It'll be the clink! We wouldn't last a week."

Peter walked forward and crouched down in front of his friend. "Weren't you at the bottom of Hackney Canal when Jimmy found you?" he asked. "Tied in a sack, with stones around your wrists and ankles. Jimmy's rescued every one of you," he continued, now addressing the entire room. "He's pulled you from the workhouses and asylums. He's given you a home. Food in your belly and shoes on your feet! Isn't it time we paid him back? Harbottle's Antiques." With this he raised his hand. "All who's with me, raise your right hand."

One by one, the boys rose their hands. Peter turned to Jimmy.

"A word in your ear, Peter," Jimmy muttered. Peter followed him upstairs, leaving the other boys to themselves.


End file.
